


I'm Not Breaking. I'm Not Broken.

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blood As Lube, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Body Horror, Dark, Demon Summoning, Demons, Doesn't stay dead, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jewelry, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Markings, No Lube, Piercings, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Seven Deadly Sins, Swearing, TV Tropes, Tagged for Just in case, Tumblr Prompts, Violence, Virgin Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything's fucked up.<br/>Washington fucked up, took the wrong jobs and listened to the wrong people. Now he's the only one left and his boss sicked the entirety of the United States (the military, the police--fucking FBI) on his ass. He was already on borrowed time and he was going to make sure that that man welcomed him to Hell when Wash'll meet him down there.<br/>...so he sold his soul to a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> TV Trope: "Virgin Sacrifice" and i'm just laughing.
> 
> I'm testing shit out, bare with me while I figure it out.

It was always about the blood with demons, wasn’t it?

Blood this; blood that—if it’s not blood it’s about souls.  

And they were so _specific_ in their blood types—not O types or AB, nope got to have virgin blood in your ritual if you’re going to drag a devil up to Earth and sell your soul to get it to do a job for you.

And this is what David Washington found himself doing that Friday night when he could be out drowning himself with a bottle of vodka and other poor life choices. Not cutting open the palm of his hand and summoning a demon from Hell so it could kill his high performing psychopath of a boss.

Well, former boss.

His whole life went belly up when it was discovered that the Freelancer project was run by a madman creating humanized weapons and killing hundreds of people. Washington has been jumping from one state to the other while outrunning the authorities because of that man—Washington had killed his _friends_ , his fucking family for that man only for that man to deem him as the perfect scapegoat for the entirety of the United States military and police forces to hunt down.

The hotel room shook, lights flickering as the demonic portal opened in a suffocating black ooze. Wash turned his head from it; the heat burning at his skin, his blood dripping from his palm scalding hot. He covered his face with the arm of his sweater and the portal seemed to implode, the force knocking from off his feet and bouncing off the bed to the floor on the other side.

He could hear a car alarm go off outside his window as the table lamp flickered back to life. Wash blinked up at the ceiling; lower back already feeling like it was starting to blossom into a painful bruise.

“You’re not a virgin,” an unimpressed voice made the human jolt. Scampering from his fallen position Washington pulled himself up onto the bed and finally got a glimpse at what he summoned.

The demon stood within the circle, tanned arms crossed over a barred chest. It looked like he had taken skin from people everywhere around the world—so many different ethnicities all covered in rich, bright orange markings as if they were covering the seams that stitched him all together. His matching orange eyes studied the human outside the barrier.

“Alright,” he ran his hand through his orange and black styled hair—mohawk, how typical. “How did you do it huh? Ritual calls for virgin blood but I can _taste_ the sex in your blood—you’re a kinky little fuck, ain’t cha?” When he grinned it was nothing but sharp pearly whites.

Wash tore a piece of the white sheet off and wrapped it around his bleeding palm. “People actually sacrifice virgins for this?” He raised a brow at the demon he summoned, “Virgin blood is only blood that hasn’t been used in any rituals before.”

The demon snarled cursing in a tongue that Washington had no knowledge of. “Fucking smartass over here,” Washington finally understood as the demon turned sharply in the tight summoning circle, finally looking at the room behind him. “So, David James Washington, what have you summoned me for?”

With the demons back facing him Wash could sweep his eyes over the rest of his form; the hellspawn had more than one horn curving from his skull, though from the front it only looked to be one pair of matching charcoal horns bending back into a lazy arch a good four inches from his skull. Wash could see the jewelry wrapped around the main horns and connected to the other two pairs hidden beneath.

“I need you to kill Leonard Church, my former employer.” He followed the orange markings down the back of his neck, over the arch of his shoulder blade and down the dip of his back. Wash had always assumed that demons—or was it devils?—had tails and these bat-like wings. This creature had neither the wings nor the tail; the only thing those _stories_ seemed to get correct were the horns but they left out two added sets.

Though this could just be what _this_ demon preferred.

The demon turned, his orange coloured eyes glancing up from his elongated claws. “And what are you going to give me?” He turned the remaining way, his palms pressing flat against the invisible cage entrapping him. “This isn't a favour or some charity act—it’s a _deal_ , baby boo. Sweetums... _precious_.”

“My soul.” His answer was simple, easy. He was going to die anyways—a wanted man with nothing else to live for other than to drag his former boss to the fiery pits of Hell with him. “Just kill him before the United States kills me and I don’t give a fuck.”

The demon’s shocked expression was quickly replaced by a toothy grin, “I _like_ you. You’re going to be a _fun one_ , can tell it already.” He licked his lips and tapped a claw against the invisible wall keeping the beast away from Washington. “But baby, if I’m going to do my _job_ I gotta be let out of the cage.” The demon licked his lips and continued to tap-tap-tap on the barrier.

Washington stood finally, pushing off the shitting hotel bed and stopping just an inch away from the circle. “And what should I call you?” A demon’s name was important—that and an angels, if all the lore around it was true. Even one of their many aliases had a height behind it. They’d protect it with their _lives_ —or whatever that meant to them.

His orange coloured irises darkened, “You, sweetheart, can call me _Felix_. It’s one of my _personal favourites_ , consider yourself lucky.” The ‘k’ seemed click harder than intended against his teeth and Wash zeroed in on his lips with a frown pulling on his face.

He was going to regret it... maybe.

He broke the circle keeping the demon contained. Felix pounced taking his face between his clawed hands and pulling the man’s face to his for a searing kiss. Washington could feel his lips beginning to bleed already under the demon’s fangs as he pressed his burning hot tongue into his mouth. It was like sucking on a burning ember; heat like molten lava oozing from his throat, into his lungs and pooling in his stomach.

The demon pulled away with a lick of his lips, “the contract has been signed,” he stated pulling at the belt Wash wore around his waist. Pulling the human flush against him he pressed another kiss to his bleeding lips.

This one lacked any burning heat though the pain from the teeth still remained. The press of claws against his gut should’ve sent Washington scurrying, should’ve fought with the hellbeast. He did nothing but pull the demon closer. Washington did nothing but allow Felix to _dominate_ him.

Feeling his clothes tear away and blood swell up over his chest before Felix would lean down and lick up every single drop. “You have some nice O negative blood here Wash,” his orange eyes bleeding to a deep blood orange. Felix tongue and teeth tinted with red; he shouldn’t be getting off to this. Shouldn’t be moaning at the fact some demon is consuming his blood and cutting marks and patterns into his flesh.

The demon allowed the blood to pool in the center of Washington’s chest, “You have one of two choices. I either go in dry, or we use this blood as lube.” He swiped his clawed finger through one of the marks he made up by the human’s collarbone. Drawing a symmetrical little heart with the liquid on the blond’s freckled cheek.

Washington swallowed thickly; dipping and rolling his fingers in the blood gathered on his chest and quickly spread it onto three of his fingers before reaching further down and pressing two fingers into himself. If that warning held any weight to it Wash wouldn’t put it past the demon to see that he wasn’t even properly prepped before pushing his way in.

“Dinner and a show,” Felix hummed sitting back and watching the human work his fingers into himself. His clawed hands ran up and down the man’s legs, his nails _just_ pressing against the tender flesh behind Washington’s knees to send a bite of added adrenaline as he pushed a third finger into him and worked on practicality rather than to draw himself pleasure. Felix hummed, batting the man’s hands away from himself as he threw Wash’s legs over his shoulders and bent him in half. “For a human you are very pleasant to look at,” as he pressed in, the man’s insides coated with not _quite_ enough blood to make it an easy slide, Felix lapped at the blood that rolled down _his human’s_ chest and pooled at the base of his neck.

Felix’s teeth ghosted over Wash’s adam’s apple, sucking a dark mark under his chin when he tipped his head back and pushed up against the demon drawing him completely within him. “How do you want me to do it?” The creature pulled out with a slow hiss before slamming back in. “Want me to tear him limb from limb? String him up and gut him?” He brushed up against Wash’s prostate, and teased him with each and every thrust _just_ barely massaging the nerves. “Should I ruin him? Torture him a bit; get him good and ready for the rack? How about tying him up in those children places... a park? Yeah, tie him all up naked it a park. Cut ‘im open and let the crows pull out his guts.”

The demon’s purring grew deeper and Wash tried to drown out the words; focusing on the painful pleasure, the liquid pooling and dripping down his neck and soaking his hair. He focused on the _sound_ of the voice, the rumble—the purr against his neck and then his ear as Felix’s breath hitched. “Fucking Hell, Felix,” the human hissed as the demon in question _finally_ stopped teasing and began to fuck him proper.

Felix didn’t utter another word after that. Not until his seed splashed and coated his insides, it hurt, and Wash pumped himself to completion.

The demon lay spread out on the ruined bed covered in blood and torn sheets, his head supported by the palm of his hand as he stared down at the human still lazing beside him in his own blood. “You’re too pretty for the rack,” he licked his lips and pulled the blond’s face towards him. “I think I’ll throw you into the abyss and see what happens.”

He licked the little bloody heart from his face and grinned at his handy work.

“But until then, I have a contract to fill.”


	2. The Abyss

The abyss was _nothing_ , a big cloud of nothing in one of the many corners of the fiery and ice pits of Hell. As soon as the _thing_ reached out to him, dragging him deeper into pain and anguish, Washington lost who he was. He was being torn apart; soul, body, mind.

It was Epsilon all over again.

He couldn’t scream, he had lost his lungs already. Somewhere by his feet his intestines were spilling out and he should be focusing on that. On the fact that he body was being torn apart but all he could feel, all that could _truly_ sob about was his mind being drilled into. Bits and pieces of his memories taken and shown to him, over and over again.

Killing South. Killing York and North.  Killing Maine—the abyss seemed to settle with that one for awhile longer, twisting the mental image each and every time it would replay into something darker... bloodier.

Each second more pieces of himself fell away; his nails, his fingers. His arms began to unravel starting with the hair on his arms; plucked like some bird being prepared for the oven. He could feel his guts pooling around his feet in a large pile, it pulled at his stomach until that feel out as well.

He felt like he was showering in his own blood; dripping down his face and into his mouth and nostrils. His senses filled with pain, tasting of ash and copper. He wanted nothing more than to be able to scream out, curse Felix and promise to tear the creature limb from bloody limb.

He felt like he was both set on fire and experiencing frostbite—both of which he had felt before.

Was this what he’d experience for the rest of existence? Was this the cost of what his anger, desperation, and vengeance?

Did Washington even have a body left? Everything was just pain; burning hot pain. He couldn’t see a wink, nothing but his own memories—Freelancer, his childhood, making that deal. His whole life played out in his head; once, twice, and for a third time it started to burn away.

Like the film was starting to spark, igniting the fire in his being. He focused on the bittersweet anger. His sister pushing him off the roof of their house when he was six; he had broken both of his legs and cracked two ribs. _He_ had been blamed for it. He clicked, flipping through the memories lingering—pulling them from the abyss and taking them back.

He pieced himself together starting with the anger, following the pathways that opened from there. He embraced the memories of Alpha and Epsilon when they were implanted within him. He picked them apart, adapting them to his being before working back towards David James Washington.

He remembered York and South, Texas and Carolina, North and Wyoming and Florida; he remembered C.T and the Director. He remembered killing Maine. He brought up the memories of David’s family; long dead and gone. His older sister, his parents. He gathered the memories of high school and basic training. Of killing his first man and when he stopped caring about them, when all the faces lost tone and the only thing he could remember the blood against the blank canvas.

He remembered the deal and the grin that Felix gave him as the demon threw him into the abyss to _change_.

He knew exactly what Felix had wanted now—a _bitch_ for the rest of eternity. A piece of ass to show off to all these demon buddies of his.

Washington snarled as he stitched himself back up. Dragging pieces of blood and organs and skin together; he couldn’t see what he was doing, could only feel the pain of a body—his body—being brought together. Each connection of a limb released the dormant pain still lingering in those severed nerve endings—it only pushed him forwards. He piled organs into the torso, connected the legs with his tender but _strong_ arms.

For some dumb reason he even checked if he had a dick—he did. A small blessing in however amount of time has passed since he’s been thrown into the darkness.

He groped around in the dark, reaching for a face—he wanted his damn face, his same freckles and scars. He’d want those very same scars and freckles all over his body—the burns, the words, the deep angry looking scars. He placed the face in place, feeling the shaven back of his head under his sensitive finger tips. The front hung just between his brows, tickling his tingling face as he moved and finally pulled himself up on shaking feet.

Even with eyes he couldn’t see in the abyss, only moving forwards towards what he could only assume was the exit. The darkness seemed to embrace him either each step, a tickle and weight being added to his head and hips that had him reaching to understand what it meant.

He was met with two pairs of horns. One twisting, spiralling down like a ram, and the other pair spiking up with only a slight arch back towards his head. He ran his fingers down to his hips, feeling the bones, muscle and leathery texture and sucked in a hiss. Why the hell does he have wings coming from his waist?

The abyss continued with its tickling caress and Washington found himself being clothed in horribly tight pants and just a long hood drawn over his eyes. His torso and arms still completely barred of any and all clothing right as he stepped from the abyss.

The shock from nothing to _everything_ made breath catch and his hand to pull the hood down lower over his eyes. It seems that that abyss not only wished to make a fashion statement out of him but also provided the hood for _some_ practicality. It’s a... rather lovely thought for a place like this. Almost reminded him of a mother taking care of her child.  

He glanced down at the tendril of the abyss still wrapped around his ankle and he sighed, eyes snapping back up and he made his way from the abyss and forwards whatever it is that waited for him.


	3. Wrath

There was always just _something_ about the taste of virginity that made demons lick their chops and yearn for more. At first it wasn’t _virgin_ Virgin blood being used, the technicality is that the blood must never have been used in a ritual before. But humans always had a way of taking _everything_ just so _literal_.

It was _fucking great_.

Felix got summon with a bath of pure virgin blood, the taste of it running down his throat and through his veins. Though the unfortunate part was always the man on the other side with the poor virgin bleed dry at his feet. Just _once_ Felix would like to taste a virgin as he rips that purity away.

Locus was summoned by some virgin prick and he didn’t even _fuck him_! It was a waste! And then Sharkface; that smug prick that he is constantly brings up his own virgin defiling just to rub ash into those wounds.

One of these days... one of these days Felix was going to taste a virgin and tear them apart. They’d bind their souls to Hell and he’d enjoy nothing more than to visit them strung up on that rack with the other souls and rub their faces in the filth. _Was it everything you hoped for?_

But then out came David James Washington and his blood tasted of sex and hate and _murder_. His tongue sharp enough to have Felix hesitating, breaking from his normal flirtatious show. He could see bits and pieces of the man’s life through the blood he summoned him with; could see the betrayal and anger, the pain and sex, the constant killing.

With each drop of blood that he consumed the more Felix learned about the man—he liked being called Wash, he’s fond of cats, he like maple flavoured things, he’s never learned how to ride a bike. With each drop of blood against his tongue Felix only wanted more—more and more and fucking more.

He wanted to claw open this man’s chest and feel each and every one of his organs. See which one would taste the best as he sunk his teeth in them. He wanted to dominate him—show him off. String him along like a pet for the remainder of eternity.

He was only a demon marked of Greed, Lust and Pride after all. He was just doing what was his _nature_ , what base sins drove him during his humanity and will fuel his adventures for the remainder of eternity. Maybe he’d toss this human to Mother, the great abyss, and see what base sins would make his demon. This human would be _his_ to show off then, a stunning new demon to tempt Sharkface and Locus with.

He wouldn’t _need_ a virgin with this prize; this sharp tongued human with nothing but a bitter hatred driving him forwards. Felix wouldn’t need a virgin _just yet_ when he could have this _bitch_ catering to his whims.

“You’re too pretty for the rack,” his own voice vibrated in his throat. He licked his blood stained lips, the taste of the human still lingering. “I think I’ll throw you to the abyss and see what happens,” he hummed pulling the man’s face towards him and licking the shape from his cheek.

\--

A full week of waiting outside of Mother’s domain, a full week of waiting for his precious little trophy after a contract was met. He had torn that human’s heart right out of his chest, a truly _romantic_ notion Felix thought and gifted it to his blond haired human. He was hoping to draw a similarity between that of a cat; those animals that he remembers the human thinking so fondly of.

Felix was a demon of Greed, Pride and Lust. If he was to show off his new prize he had to insure that he was the _best—_ he was making a point on having Sharkface and Locus being by his side when he prize finally stumbles out of the abyss and into his waiting arms.

“He’s truly _stunning_ ,” Felix grinned towards the demon he could consider _brother_. Their human souls had known each other, had stood back-to-back with each other in combat. “I hope he keeps those freckles, I haven’t gotten around studying them yet.” He throws a point glance towards Sharkface and grins when the demon catches his gaze.

Locus’s form didn’t change much from when he remembers from his past memories. The demon still had the same scars on his face, his long dreadlocks still pulled up into a tight ponytail. Everything was practical about him in this. No tail; tails got in the way. Wings large enough to support flight on his back though he constantly had them tucked in tight unless he’s using them to push Felix away or hooking something on the end of his talon. The ends recently fashioned with long steel accessories much to Felix’ annoyance—knifes and blades were _his_ thing, not Locus. Even his horns were _plain_ , only one pair and a foot long—thick and dark like the rest of him.

The only thing of _brightness_ —colour—on him was the green eyes and markings claiming him as a demon of Envy and Pride.

Sharkface was different; a beast of a former man. The abyss had sought hit to _gift_ him with scales and a jaw that could unhinge to show off the three rows of serrated fangs. His horns fanning out and framing his face; doesn’t even look like true horns at all but large hardened scales. He was the only one out of the three to have a tail; long, leathery scales that flicked back and forth like a whip.

Everything about him was _fire_ ; fire and tooth and claw. A demon of Wrath and Gluttony; a hunger towards destruction and ash.

“Is this your _trophy_ ,” Sharkface nodded towards the hooded figure making their way towards them. The scaled demon was growing bored—annoyed mostly on spending so much time around Felix and just _waiting_ from Mother to possibly spit the former human out. Sometimes it could take a day, sometimes a few hundred years for a soul to change and drag themselves out. Sometimes they never returned.

Felix’s gaze snapped up to the hooded figure and he squinted his eyes. He couldn’t be sure after the possible transformation so he knew of only one way to insure that he’d see results. “David,” he purred out like a caress, the ‘V’ sliding smoothly from his lip.

The hooded figure shuttered, and Felix could see the one gray-blue eye glaring at him. Yeah; he grinned and rolled his shoulders. This was his little pet.

This new demon with the one bright yellow and one gray-blue eyes. His pale flesh still speckled with freckles and scars, only slightly tanner than Felix remembered—like he had spent a weekend laying in the sun. And those horns! Oh Felix was going to decorate them with gold and rubies.

And somewhere between picturing Washington in glittering gems and jewels and fucking him in front of those two that gathered two watch him claim his prize Wash crossed the remaining space between them. Gripping Felix’s horn and _whipping_ him round, round until he released him into Sharkface and the pair fell into a pile of limbs and bit of curses.

Locus’ wings spread open, and Wash’s attention quickly snapped to him. The blond snarled, fangs barred in challenge and Locus took a step back and out of the fight. This _trophy_ of Felix’s was more than what the smallest demon planned for and Locus got a glimpse of the marking on his back.

 _Wrath_.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Felix hissed dusting his arms off when he finally returned to his feet. After much _insistence_ from his companions Felix had dawned on a cloth around his waist; silken charcoal fabric tied together with gold clasps and buckles—only the best for Felix. “Stop being an unreasonable bitch and make yourself useful, yeah?” He crooked his finger and beaconed the male towards him.

Wash obeyed. He made his way towards Felix without a word, no hesitation in his step though his mixed eyes shone with a poorly hidden rage. “Let’s get a proper look at you, sweetheart,” Felix purred running a hand up Washington’s exposed chest. Taking inventory of what he’d need to add to make him _perfect_ —some rings here, some there. Felix’s head was tilting to the side and he let out a quick, “don’t even fucking—”

Washington snapped the main horn on his left side straight in half, taking the jewelry he had wrapped around all of them and the blood grinned at Felix’s cry of pain, “who’s the bitch now?” And stuffed the horn up through his jaw before tossing the smaller demon away from him.

The two companions of Felix howled out something akin to laughter at the _trophy_ putting his _master_ it his place. “You know he’s going to regenerate right?” Sharkface grinned but wrapping an arm around the blond’s shoulder. “I’m Sharkface, that’s Locus. And you must be...?”

Everyone had a name, every demon had a series of names and aliases that they’d claim as their own and defend.

“Washington,” the blond replied just as Felix began to gurgle behind him and a broken off piece of horn shot out between Sharkface and Wash’s faces.

“He’s mine fuck off!”

“You can just call me Wash,” he eyed the green-eyed demon. The demon’s wings folded in against his back and he tossed the blond a hint of a smirk before Felix could pull himself off the ground with his freshly repaired jaw and slowly re-growing horn.


End file.
